


Dark

by Swordbite



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bestiality, M/M, OMC/Dragon, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, dragon - Freeform, every day i stray further from god's light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 07:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20254339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swordbite/pseuds/Swordbite
Summary: A barrow-thief finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.The local dragon would disagree.





	Dark

Mischa had, in fact, done everything correctly, and it had still gone terribly, terribly wrong.  
The whole place had been filled with traps. He'd carefully disarmed them, killing the mechanicals and undead that populated this gods-damned place, and moved quickly through it. Barrows were dangerous for the stupid, which he was not. Except that something had gone wrong with his last spell and now he was trapped.  
Something moved in the darkness, the sound of metal on stone, and Mischa bit back a snarl of fear and anger. The golden crown he had been about to steal had become a golden manacle, constricting around his wrists until they were bound together in front of him. Whoever had cursed it had had some ideas about theft, it seems.  
The sound of movement again in the dark. Mischa closed his eyes, terror rising in his throat. Whatever it was, it was big, bigger than any of the other creatures he had bested. And it was moving closer. His lantern was burning low, guttering out as the oil level sank. He had maybe thirty more minutes of light, and then the endless dark would find him. He opened his eyes, trying to keep his fear quiet, and watched the flame flicker. Could he run? Could he fight? Was there even time to make a choice?  
Mischa drew his sword, an awkward feat, and gripped it in his bound hands. Where was the damned thing? Echoes of something dragging across the stone reached him but nothing else; no clockwork ticking or the ghastly sounds of the undead. It would be easier to not be terrified if he knew what the nine hells he was facing.  
And then it stepped into his dim circle of light, and he desperately wished it had not. Dying would be better than seeing the enemy he faced.  
The dragon was small, as dragons go, but that meant that its head was roughly the same size as Mischa's torso. He saw it in flashes as it moved, the flickering fire and its own colour confusing him. Where did it end? Where did it start? It was a dark grey that hid beautifully in the shadows and didn't shine in the light, and it was moving closer.  
Mischa swung his sword, panicked and shaking, a scream of panic leaving his lips. The blade nicked the dragon's scales and bounced off, the impact shaking his bones and forcing him to drop the weapon. The dragon snarled, a sound that reverberated in Mischa's gut, and pounced.  
Claws pierced his shoulder, driving him down to the cold stone floor. He bit off another scream at the pain and braced for a second swipe that never came. Instead, the dragon paused, and then leaned in to press its nose against Mischa and take a deep breath.  
_Did this thing just....sniff me?_  
Mischa let out a whimper of pain and fear and the dragon moved again, the motion shifting the claws currently embedded in Mischa and making him groan in pain. His hands were twisted up in their golden manacle, his arms bent up to try and protect his chest, and the dragon's scales were cold under his fingers. The dragon leaned in again, moving slowly, and ran its teeth lightly over him.  
"Stop," Mischa whispered, knowing the dumb creature couldn't understand him. Dragons didn't speak, especially not dragons that had lived underground and alone for gods knew how long. Adrenaline raced through his body, dulling the pain in his shoulder and making him doubly aware of every movement the dragon made. Apparently satisfied with what it had found, the creature nosed at him, scraping its teeth against his armor again and again. Mischa held deathly still and panted in terror.  
One long, stained tooth finally caught and snapped his belt, and Mischa was suddenly all to aware of the closeness of the creature. What was it doing? It had him prone and defenseless, and yet he still drew breath. What could the dragon possibly need with him?  
A few more passes of its head and it caught at his pants, pulling them down a little before the straps of his armor cut in to his flesh and stopped the motion. Not to be deterred, the dragon pulled harder, bracing itself with the claws that pierced his shoulder and pulling. Mischa screamed from the pain, the well-oiled leather straps snapped, and suddenly his pants ripped and left the dragon with a mouthful of cloth and metal and little else.  
When he came back down from the pain, the dragon had removed the claws from his shoulder and had him by the chest, the one foot easily encircling him. Five claws, Mischa dimly registered, and each one of them carefully not piercing his armor or flesh.  
What was--oh.  
The dragon leaned in, bending its long neck, and licked.  
Mischa whimpered at the contact. The dragon's tongue was barbed like a cat's, rough and warm against his newly exposed flesh. The dragon licked him again, its tongue more than long enough to cover all of his skin in spit, and then got to work. It held him carefully as it found his hole and worked it, rough tongue against sensitive flesh. The first hot press of it inside made Mischa scream, and he knew it must taste his blood.  
"No, no, no," Mischa said, as despite his terror and the pain his body reacted. Perhaps because of--he'd always liked a bit of pain, and with the dragon giving him such attention, his body was trying to make sense of the mixed signals. He moaned as one thrust of the tongue scraped lightly across his prostate and found his hips kicking down against the pressure, grinding for more.  
The dragon removed its tongue and shifted again, and Mischa felt something even hotter than the tongue catch on his torn hole. He shied away instinctively, gasping in pain, and was rewarded with the dragon simply dragging him down onto its cock.  
He screamed. It was big, bigger than any cock he'd ever thought about, much less seen. The dragon didn't seem to care that he was a bloody mess, pushing further into the tight heat of his body. The heat of it felt like it burned Mischa, the velvety glide of wet flesh interrupted by bumps and spikes. They caught at the ring of muscle at his entrance and tore him further, pressed against his prostate and massaged his insides. His own cock, already half-hard, hardened further, leaving precum streaked across his stomach.  
It felt like he would break. The dragon pistoned in further, the flat head of its cock spreading Mischa apart. It felt like he could feel it in his throat. He was pulled further down on the dragon's cock. The creature acted like he was little more than a cocksleeve, just a warm hole to fuck and fill, to be placed and moved as it pleased. With one last push that Mischa felt in every inch of his body the dragon hilted in him.  
Mischa chanted healing spells through his gasps and sobs, wondering if it wouldn't be better just to stop. The dragon paused for a moment and he could feel its blood pulse through its impossibly hard cock, moving his insides and pushing against him. And then the dragon pulled back out and thrust back in, impossibly fast, slamming him against the stone floor.  
Looking down he could see, past the claws on his chest and his own bound hands, the clear outline of the dragon's cock inside his body. It pressed in and curved up, making his body stretch and bend against it. The barbs caught on him every time it pulled back and blood and thick, hot precum leaked out of Mischa's hole. He felt it swell further, hot heat inside of him, and he came untouched. His muscles tightened down on the dragon and his spasming brought it to its own climax, a low groan vibrating through the dragon's body and into Mischa's.  
The dragon's cum was hot, hotter than its cock, and Mischa could feel it paint his inside and fill his stomach. The cold stones at his back and its own cold scales were such a contrast to the burning heat inside of him. The dragon shifted, still filling him, and Mischa retched, thick ropes coming out of his mouth as his stomach was overfilled. Still the dragon did not move and Mischa could feel his own cock growing hard again at the constant pressure against his prostate.  
He was so full. With one last thrust the dragon finished and pulled him off of its cock, lifting him up as if to watch the streams of cum drain out of him. Mischa felt empty and cold and sobbed in relief to feel the hot cum paint his thighs and drop to the floor, the sound obscene in the darkness.  
His lamp had gone out. He could barely see, and it seemed to only make him more aware of each place of contact between himself and the dragon. It held him there, waiting, and when the rivers of cum slowed it dropped him to the floor.  
Mischa lay in pain in a puddle of cooling semen, his own cock half-hard and flagging in the cold air. His hands were still bound, the gold cutting into his skin, the pain barely noticeable against the rest of his body. Finally he moved, rolling over, trying not to make anything hurt worse. He could get out of here. He knew the way out, if he could make it to the door he had left his pack there, and from there he could get a torch and go. The dragon couldn't fit through the door. No doubt it had been someones pet, once, trained for pleasure when it was still small enough to be handled. There were spells for that, if you knew where to look, and spells to stunt growth and increase libido. Mischa's mind supplied what he knew of them, a distraction as he struggled to his knees, his breath coming in broken gasps. The dragon would have been alone down here, buried with the king or emperor or whoever the hells it was that was buried here, hibernating so that it did not die of starvation and waiting.  
He didn't make it to the door.  
The dragon returned while he was on his knees, shuffling forward in a slow crawl to avoid standing up. His bound hands and injuries made the process difficult. The dragon wasted no time, grabbing him and quickly pulled him down on its already hard cock, making him scream and clench down against the pain.  
The dragon fucked him roughly, his limbs hanging uselessly in the air. Mischa was already fucked open, the sticky cum of the dragon acting as a lubricant. It was an easier fit. The cock still felt too heavy, too hot, rubbing against all the tears and pains and making new ones with its barbs. He was impossibly full, the cum inside of him sloshing about with the new movement.  
The dragon grunted, fucking faster, harder, making Mischa scream and flail. His motions had no effect but to drive him further onto its cock, making him arch back as pleasure and pain raced through his body. His stomach and chest curved out, stretch marks appearing, and already he could feel the need to retch, the weight in the back of his throat as the dragon pounded into him. He truly was a cocksleeve, fucked and filled and ready to be used again.  
Mischa came as the dragon's cock rubbed over his prostate, a thick swell of it pressing down hard. His own cum joined the mess on the floor. The dragon didn't stop, relentlessly pounding him through his climax. The claws around his chest tightened, denting his armor but not breaking it. The dragon tipped forward, placing him on the floor, and increased its pace, as if upset that it had not come yet. The force of each thrust drove Mischa into the flagstones beneath, crushing the air from his lungs in small gasps and grunts.  
The dragon came with a grunt, wrenching a low moan from Mischa as its cock throbbed. The second load of cum was as hot as the first, but it took less time before the dragon pulled Mischa off of its now-spent cock. It didn't drain him this time, instead simply dropping him to the floor. Mischa lay there, panting, his bound hands pressed against his chest as he felt the cum leak out of his ruined hole. The dragon moved away, the drag of its body against the stone floor speaking of fatigue. Mischa gasped, trying to refill his lungs, feeling impossibly full.  
_Escape._ Mischa finally felt like he could take a deep breath and he dragged himself up, feeling every single ache and pain. Out. He had to get out, before the damned creature came back. In the darkness he could barely see, but he crawled ever closer to where he knew the door--and his bag--was.  
This time he made it. He nearly sobbed in relief, still feeling the dragon's cum leaking out of him. He could do this. Blood, and semen, and pain--with a few carefully chosen words, the golden crown fell off of his hands, the curses on it broken. His wrists were rubbed raw and spell-damaged. He shoved the crown into his bag, grabbed the bag, and carefully stood, letting out a low groan against the pain.  
Two steps and he was out of the door. He'd let someone else deal with the dragon and whatever else it might be hoarding. He had had more than his fill of it.

**Author's Note:**

> complicated magical systems? in my porn? it's more likely than you think!


End file.
